Bloodborne: Tales of the Old Blood
by Kenrai
Summary: An anthology series based on the 2015 release Bloodborne. Spin-off of An Amnesiac's Redemption. Short stories starring numerous characters from the story. From the land of Cainhurst to the blood-soaked battlefields of Yharnam come the twisting tales of sanguine and grief; delving backwards and even forward through time in an effort to gain that which one craves most. Insight.
1. Episode I - Act I

**Bloodborne: Tales of the Old Blood**

**Episode I: Knowledge**

_**Act I: Sorcery and Arcane Might**_

**Disclaimer: I don't own Bloodborne, this is just a Fanfiction.**

**Featured Music: "Hunter's Dream" - Bloodborne OST. **Episode Briefing.

**"Maze Garden A" - Castlevania and the Legacy of Darkness OST. **Scene **1 **(First Half).

**"Silent Madness" - Castlevania and the Legacy of Darkness OST. **Scene **1 **(Second Half).

**"Demon Salesman" - Castlevania and the Legacy of Darkness OST. **Scene **2.**

* * *

_In the far-off land of Yharnam there once existed a special kind of ministration led and spearheaded by one of its greatest minds to ever live._

_'Blood Ministration'._

_It is within this legendary land and the wondrous people that inhabit it that we turn our attention to the great people living within. These people, connected by both achievement of the academics and of the very battlefield itself, form and weave an incredible overarching story that becomes something greater; something wiser._

_A Great One._

_Today, we go back in time years and even decades before such great names as Laurence, the First Vicar and the Byrgenwerth Butcher to the progenitor of Yharnam's teachings; he who, without effort, the very land of Yharnam would be bare of its many grand accomplishments. They called him wiser even than his student Laurence, they said his perception was to be on par with fabled Great Ones themselves..._

_They called him 'Willem'._

* * *

_**Scene 1**_

Little Willem frowned as he stepped very carefully and quietly through the quiet woods, gripping the pile of mushrooms as tightly to his small chest as he could. His eyes darted around in half-suspicious concern when the sound of a far-off howl made him snap his head in tandem with it.

"_What was _that?_"_

He didn't stay around to confirm any worried thoughts he held.

The little boy turned his eyes forward and scampered forward through the quickly darkening forest, stepping over every branch he passed with hurried parkour. His eyes were drawn up to the brightly orange setting sun ahead to his far-right, further doubting the young fledgeling's hope.

I can't be caught here at night, he thought.

I'm dead if that happens.

His little feet scuttled ahead in some attempt to quicken his already hurried pace but it seemed to be hopeless; when he passed the umpteenth tree, his eyes widening at how far the castle was.

Oh _please_ no, he thought, growing despair gripping at his heart sinking it deeper within his chest.

Numerous branches and leaves cracked and whistled behind him noisily; he gasped, his eyes snapping to his far-left.

He dared not turn around however.

Someone... or some _thing _was chasing him.

"_No, no, no...!"_

The poor youth could do little but let his lower lip tremble as he rushed his pace forward. When he saw one of the many hiding places he himself had carved out of a tree however, his eyes widened, this time in hope. Pressing himself on he finally allowed himself more room to run with; unfortunately however, this was to be his mistake.

He gasped as his feet caught each other in his mad dash; his eyes widened again but this time in horror. The little boy fell forward and time slowed down as a couple of mushrooms dropped from his grip, spilling ahead from him. Left with no other alternative, the boy turned his terror-laced expression behind him and his fear heightened beyond even _that_ if it were possible.

A fearsome beast – a werewolf perhaps – leapt through the sky with amazing agility after him, pulling its frighteningly long claws back to rend his flesh with.

Willem's astonishingly short life flashed before his eyes as he watched the wolf-beast plummet down hungrily for him.

_BANG_

The sudden cacophonous noise made Willem jump, even in his already horror-filled state; he turned his vision to the source of the commotion to find a narrow-eyed knight of Cainhurst rolling forward, holding her Reiterpallasch ahead of herself. An old-style gun was attached to the end of the rapier-like weapon and, as she fired a Quicksilver bullet from it, the werewolf howled in pain as it was sent crashing back down to the forest ground beneath it. The nameless knight quickstepped forward hungrily before smashing her squelching fist into the wolf-beast's exposed flesh; a visceral attack.

Willem could only watch in shocked and amazed eyes, his life having been saved by the knight's efforts. She snapped her silvery-haired pony-tailed head 'round to scowl at him, wide-eyed and all.

"Get _moving_ you idiot boy!"

The youth's lower lip trembled but this time in a different kind of reaction; though his feelings were visibly hurt he could not act on it, not even _show_ it. He swept as many of the fallen mushrooms that had dropped from his grip earlier and turned for the once far-off castle of Cainhurst, his little feet stomping past leaves and grass.

* * *

Willem didn't feel safe until he was directly inside Castle Cainhurst. Once he had passed the bridge and walked by the more traditionally dressed knights – suited in iron armour – the little boy's anxiety very slowly dissipated. He frowned as he was quickly watched by the pair of knights and lowered his eyes from theirs, unsocial in the highest sense.

He never knew what to say to them.

Never knew what to say to a _lot_ of people to be honest.

He didn't allow his thoughts to fester as they traditionally did and pressed on, in search of his always busy father. As he marched on through the actively populated outside he soon strode on up to the main castle doors, frowning up at another pair of knights staring down at them.

"Open up." The man on the right frowned over his shoulder.

Like magic, the huge pair of double doors creaked open and little Willem winced as they did, causing a light shuddering throughout the ground in which he stood on.

He never got used to it.

The two men gave the little boy a nod towards the open doors, almost as if a silent message for him to move on.

Willem did not stay to argue.

He marched onwards, hurriedly scurrying up the stairs and entering Cainhurst's main foyer.

Even in his much earlier days Willem found the lit candles and even the _atmosphere_ of Castle Cainhurst very oppressive.

Even frightening at times.

He pushed past his growing anxieties and stepped on forward through the busy foyer, passing many of the hurriedly scrubbing servants. His eyes widened however when he felt his dark-brown jacket being pulled by surprising strength, halting his hurried run almost immediately. He gasped and turned his shocked frown on a disarming smile behind him.

"Hello master Willem."

A woman.

Decorated in a rather fancy dress to match her lavish brown hairstyle, she bent over to Willem's own level as she smiled down at him. Her clothing indicated her sense of royalty and perhaps even lineage to the acropolis. In spite of her sociable and well-acclimated beam down at him, something about her manner and even her aura seemed to suggest something sinister about the woman.

"I hope you haven't _forgotten_ our little play-date."

It was hard to forget, Willem thought to himself as she placed him back down to the ground. He let out a very quiet and light gasp as his feet touched the velvet carpeted floor beneath him, avoiding her piercing gaze as he did so.

Lady Adelaide.

She was a strange sort of noble, even for Cainhurst and even stranger woman. The gossip rumours that floated 'round about her seemed to suggest a malevolent going ons in her dealings outside of professional interest.

Willem, try as he might, could not stave her off for very long; at least not by himself. She had an unusual fascination with him.

"_Maybe because I'm the only child living here."_ He thought wistfully to himself.

"You were sent _out_ of the castle grounds...?" Adelaide spoke, this time her smile devolving into a disapproving frown as her eyes very quickly scanned the mushrooms still hanging in his small hands. He blinked up at her before blushing and turning away again, unsure on what to say. "_Again...?_"

"U-Um... y-yes Lady-"

"Where is your _father_ Willem?" The noblewoman angrily spat back at him, interrupting and uncaring. The intimidated little boy could only shrink back in response.

That's what _I_ want to know, he pondered hopelessly.

"His _father_ is working, Lady Adelaide."

The pair, surprised, snapped their eyes and their heads to their sides; Willem's right and Adelaide's left. Another woman stared over at them both, arms folded and eyes narrowing down at them. She wore a dress much like Adelaide's, indicating their similar status. Her long black hair was pulled up in a similarly lavish ponytail.

His mother.

Willem immediately took off scurrying toward her protective presence, stepping his body around to hide behind her. Her hard-eyed folded glare did not budge, even as the similarly firm-frowning Adelaide stepped herself up to glower back at her. The two noblewomen almost seemed to watch one another for what felt like _minutes_ before one of them finally opened their mouths to speak.

"I see."

With Adelaide's last spitting words of thinly veiled hatred, she very briefly turned a low suggestive smirk on the hiding form behind her seeming enemy.

"Good day, master Willem." She finally greeted with a simple respectful curtsy before at last turning to leave the pair, ascending the long staircase to her side. Willem and the woman next to him took their time in watching her leave before decisively speaking to one another.

"He sent you out _again?_"

Little Willem winced a second time, having listened to the same words naught but a few minutes earlier. The tall woman towering over him knelt down to his own level to frown down disapprovingly at him before turning him around with her hands, almost as if looking for something. Her eyes narrowed at his uncomfortable shifting and body before finally settling; she sighed as she patted down his chestnut-brown coat, allowing him room to breathe.

"I _hate_ when he sends you out for these," she lamented down at him before finally allowing her features to crease into a light smile. "Come on, let's go find your father."

–

_**2**_

"Dear?"

She knocked the oak door to the quarters she was once so familiar with. Willem stood hanging at her leg, daring to cast his gaze further in the room. Ahead of them at the back end of the messy room sat a man working with a large blackened pot. Inside seemed to churn many arcane ingredients, giving the room a deep purple-pinkish tint. The man turned around in his seat, a quill pen in his hands and a peculiar set of black-like spectacles across his face.

Willem's father.

His initially surprised wide open frown turned to a recognisable smile and he placed his spectacles off.

"Darling! Son!"

His raucous call made the smiling Willem run forward from the woman's leg straight for the laughing short-brown haired man. He laid the mushrooms down at his feet as he approached before leaping up to catch his father in an embrace, eliciting a smiling laugh from the older male. The noblewoman in the doorway did not seem as similarly impressed however; she pressed forward and folded her arms disapprovingly down at the man.

"Why do you keep sending him out?" She confronted him outright and with a hardened frown on her features. The man's eyebrows lifted and his wide smile dropped in favour of a frown as he raised his eyes to face hers. "He could have _died; _it may be summer but that doesn't mean it's _safe_ out there, especially at night."

"Oh you're worrying for _nothing_ Eliza; he's like his old man, he's a smart boy!" The man chuckled as he ruffled his son's head affectionately, eliciting a similar sort of smile from him in response.

"That's not the _point_ William," the noblewoman shot back in an audible sigh, unfolding her arms in a display of softness this time, frowning back at him as she placed an arm on her hip. "He's still only twelve you know; we don't _know_ what happens out there at this time of night."

"I know," the lightly wincing William frowned back out in understanding before lightly placing the similar-faced Willem back down to gain some room. He stood up from his revolving chair before pressing forward to place his hands on her hips, pulling her forward in a light smile. "I _promise_ it won't happen again." He finished, this time a light and truthful smile.

Eliza couldn't help but smirk back at him as she glided her own hands over _his_ hips, staring directly into his eyes as if to tell for any deceiving. "It _better_ not."

When the pair had finally leaned in for their modest peck, they finally parted, this time with an appreciative smile.

"Don't keep him too long; it's past his bedtime!" The smirking Eliza threw over her shoulder as she turned to leave the working quarters. William merely gave her a light agreeing nod, smiling as he did. He pressed forward and sat back down on his revolving recliner, sighing very quietly and satisfyingly as he surveyed the numerous mushrooms lying on the floor for him.

"Well done son!" The man complimented as he scooped all the arcane ingredients up with a smile. "These will work well with what I have planned."

"W-What is it you _needed_ them for, father?" Willem frowned out as he turned his inquisitive eyes up to the smiling man towering over him.

"The queen has put little old _me_ in charge of advancing our civilisation!" He smiled on down at his youth before reaching forward up to place all of the mushrooms into the churning black pot before him.

Little Willem raised his body up as far as he could and found only the top half of his head could poke over the top of the pot. He placed his hands on it, small nose hanging over the edge as he watched his father work.

"Your hard work will _not_ go unappreciated son," William smiled as he turned his own frown down on both the boiling pot beneath him and the frowning Willem. "With _this_ we'll be able to reach new heights and regain the glory of our family!"

"But... what if it doesn't work?"

William's grin soon dropped in favour of a surprised and morale-dropping frown.

"Say what?"

"I mean... it may not _work_ father," Willem managed out, this time hesitantly as he took a step backward. "It isn't the first time."

"It _has_ to," William hissed on down at the little boy, advancing on him very slowly and threateningly. The small child could only wince as he was backed very gradually into a corner. "Do you understand...?" He asked, his eyes widening in his eerie frown. Willem found his back touching the cold wall behind him, cringing as he did. "With the corner we're backed in... we _don't_ have another _choice..._"

Willem lowered his eyes, his anxiety growing as it did when in the presence of most other people. When his father seemed to notice this however, his earlier confrontational demeanour dropped.

Almost as if he suddenly realised what he was doing.

"I-I'm _sorry_ son." William gasped out, frowning sadly as he bent down on knee-level to stretch forward.

The frowning Willem could only turn his eye back up to face his father hesitantly before very slowly approaching his embrace. The two hugged together in a brief period of silence; the similarly frowning William turned his short-brown haired head downwards in his grave shut-eyed frown before re-opening them, facing forward.

"This _has_ to work," the arcane magician proclaimed very quietly as he glared forward determinedly. "It _will;_ I will see to it that our family will want for _nothing_."

Even in the embrace however, Willem found his confidence in the man's words slowly but surely shaking.


	2. Episode I - Act II

**Episode I: Knowledge**

**Act II: 'Eyes'**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Bloodborne, this is just a Fanfiction.**

–

_**Scene 1**_

"_This _has_ to work... with the corner we're backed in... we don't have another _choice..._"_

Willem gasped himself awake in what felt like the millionth time; his eyes widened and a freezing streak of sweat swam down his pyjama clothed back. His memory very slowly returned to him when he brought his left hand up to rest upon his brown-haired head.

I am in the college, he thought to himself, his stirring senses settling.

Calm down.

His eyes briefly shut and he closed his mouth to breathe through his nose as he did so.

Just a nightmare.

"_Can a memory really qualify as a _nightmare...?_"_ The matured man further pondered to himself as he re-opened his eyes to narrow them forward, directly down at the simple bed he lay in. Willem turned his frown dead-ahead this time however, frowning as he did so. His room lay in darkness, much like his objective thought process.

At least the room is still how I like it, he ruminated silently.

His gaze was soon called to the lavish window he was allowed as a result of his growingly popular teaching; he rested his left arm across his similarly raised leg, eyes narrowing toward it. A small bird flew toward the windowsill, resting and bobbing its head serenely. Willem sighed through his nose as he watched it enviously before shaking his short-haired head.

Get some sleep, he thought.

You'll need it for the morning.

With that final lingering thought, the relatively older man laid back his head upon the soft pillow behind him.

Willem forced himself not to sigh in half-frustration and half-anger as he pushed past the busy halls of Byrgenwerth Royal College. As always he had gotten many looks of disapproval and distaste, perhaps due to his manners in rushing.

In his previous fashion however, he did not care.

Ability was _all_ Willem cared about.

And right now he was late.

The lecturer, though surely not skinny, was not overweight; his size caused him great trouble in moving. Normally he preferred to rise very early and go through a rigid but perfectly fixed schedule which allowed him all the time in the world to arrive on time.

Unfortunately however this was _not_ one of those mornings.

He cursed very quietly under his breath when he finally made his way into the class he was scheduled for. The lecturer quickly scanned the room and found near maximum attendance.

Impressive, he thought.

All the more reason to apologise.

"_I'm never good at this..."_

He set his briefcase down next to his main table before laying his books down on the table's surface itself.

"I do apologise," he called out, actively avoiding the class' agonising gaze. "For being late..." He finished in a low murmur before clearing his throat awkwardly and marching around the table and his favourite chair.

Willem approached the blackboard and grabbed the white chalk piece that lay ever reliably on its side.

"Permit me to introduce myself," he voiced out loudly this time, his voice reverberating across the wide chamber. He ran the white chalk piece against the blackboard noisily, visibly writing his name. "My name is Willem Browning and I will be educating you all in... 'Philosophy and History'."

His bouncing but rigid words were backed by the strong fervour with which he spoke. Written legibly in chalk handwriting across the blackboard were the words:

_WILLEM BROWNING_

_PHILOSOPHY & HISTORY_

He placed the white rock with which he used to write his words back down on its usual place before about-turning to finally get a look at his new class.

As he had half-expected, all youths, mostly male.

"Please be aware that though you will _not_ be treated like schoolchildren I still do expect a similar sense of _respect,_" Willem announced loudly as he joined his hands behind his person, surveying each eye that scanned him carefully, lightly pacing around the wide room. "My goal is to successfully advance your learning here and I will _see_ to that end, tenaciously if required," he further explained as he abruptly ended his pacing. "However, that said, I will _not_ suffer fools," the well-dressed man warned before re-opening his mouth to finish his introduction. "Are there any questions?"

A dishevelled-haired young man smiled down at him, slowly rising his hand up. Willem prepared his nerves for an inevitable insult and nodded his head up at him.

"Yes?"

"So do you like, think you're _better_ than us, or...?"

Almost immediately the rest of the listening class murmured in quiet laughter. Willem's eyes narrowed up at the youth before he re-opened his mouth to respond.

"Leave."

Taken aback by his sudden word, the young man's eyes widened. "Wha-?"

"_Now!_"

Willem's fiery but authorised yell caused the class' quiet conversation to immediately die down, almost as if intimidated. The dishevelled-haired youth could only stare back at the older man before gaining an angry scowl on his face; he grabbed his books and kicked his shoes heatedly down the aisle, turning for the open doorway. Willem watched him leave silently with his own hard-eyed frown before turning it back on the rest of the class.

"Anyone _else?_" He challenged, this time in a much lower tone of voice. The class of adolescents mainly all avoided his eyesight, apart from perhaps one or two, a sure sign of their obedience. "Good... then let us begin."

–

_**2**_

"Now, remember to clear away your desks and I will see you all... next week." Willem finished his lesson, about-turning on the class as he briefly tossed his chalk up to re-catch it. As expected the class all very quickly stuffed their books under their arms before rushing for the door in single file. The watching lecturer couldn't help but smirk very lowly as he spectated their sudden enthusiasm for leaving.

He had that effect on people.

Still with some time remaining before his next meeting, Willem opened some paperwork from his briefcase and took a quill to it, frowning down at it from within his ever reliable favourite chair. The classroom soon descended into his most cherished sound.

Silence.

All ruined for him however when he felt the presence of an approaching pair of footsteps.

"Sir Browning?"

The named man turned his head up, slightly annoyed but tried not to show it. A smiling young man stood before him, perhaps around fifteen to sixteen. Though he wore the basic Byrgenwerth student attire, his warm aura seemed to stand out from the crowd. His black hair hung on his head like a pair of curtains, shoulder length and all.

"Yes?"

"I must say, I _really_ enjoyed that lecture you gave," the nameless young man greeted in his warm smile, eliciting a raised black eyebrow in curiosity from the listening Willem. "That part about theories and conjecture on Pthumerian society was especially interesting!"

"Um... thank you...?" Willem began back in response, arching his eyebrow ever upward, as if for the boy's name.

"Laurence, sir!"

"Thank you... Laurence." Willem murmured back out, his brow furrowing and his eyes narrowing in half-suspicion, half-puzzlement.

No-one was ever _this_ friendly to me, he thought.

Much less a _student._

"Though I'm more interested to see where you lean when it comes to Pthumerian religion sir Browning," the newly introduced youth smiled on as he dared to take a step further leaning his body forward as he did. "What can you tell me on it?"

"Um... we _shall_ cover that... of _course,_ but...," the taken aback Willem could only blink back at the exuberant youth before attempting an awkward smile of his own. "Y-You should probably _save_ something for next week."

The young student suddenly let out a boisterous laugh, tipping his head lightly back as he did. "Always in the very basic fundamentals I am lacking in!" He joked; the listening Willem couldn't help but very lightly curl his deepened, familiar frown into an uneasy smile of his own. "I shall not keep you from your busy work sir Browning; thank you for the lesson." The budding youth smiled on as he bowed forward respectfully before, finally, turning to leave the classroom. Willem watched him leave in his tiny smile, shaking his head, almost as in disbelief.

"Think nothing of it... Laurence," he murmured out so lowly the walking youth could not hear him. "Strange boy." The older man hummed thoughtfully, regaining his deep but familiar frown to his face as he re-confronted his work. As if to stop him from doing so however, a quiet but audible babble outside the open classroom doorway made him re-turn his head in its direction. The young Laurence nodded and spoke inaudibly to the much taller man now standing in the doorway; Willem recognised him immediately, his only _real_ friend.

Byrgenwerth Royal College's ever reliable janitor.

Though he was dressed in the familiar black of the grand institute, the very jumpsuit he wore indicated his lower rank within the hierarchy. As if _that_ wasn't enough however, the mop and bucket he carried with him seemed to reinforce that. Normally he wore a hat on his head but today he allowed his shortened black hair without.

When Laurence had finally finished with his greeting and parting, the janitor turned his light smile on the sitting and frowning Willem, the lecturer nodded his head upward, as if in confirmation. The man of similar age strode on into the classroom, bucket and mop in hand, as if to begin cleaning the area. He briefly scanned the vacant seats in the back before turning to face his friend, smiling as he accosted forward.

"Gehrman," Willem greeted in his ever hardened frown. "How goes it?"

"Well for a janitor's day, Master Willem," the newly introduced Gehrman smiled lightly back down at him as he placed his bucket and mop down directly ahead, gripping the handle with both hands. "How about your own?"

"Fine...," Willem murmured back out as he re-turned his work, scribbling on his papers. "I wish you'd stop _calling_ me that..."

The smiling Gehrman's face dropped in a curious frown. "Calling you _what,_ sorry?"

"'Master' Willem," the lecturer shot back, very briefly re-facing the slightly older man with a disapproving frown on his face. "I am only in a temporary position here."

"They _say_ you're one of the best," Gehrman countered with, raising up an eyebrow in his own light frown. "Or so I hear."

"If it wasn't for the _results_ I get I'd have been dropped years ago...," the bitter lecturer muttered out as he underlined a word with some sense of emphasis. "Most of these places want a _popular_ professor or a _rich_ one," he reinforced further as he scowled down at his work. "If I'd known this in advance I'd have tried to make some more friends here." He sighed this time, leaning back from his papers and into his favourite chair thoughtfully.

"Can't argue with _that,_" the smiling Gehrman nodded in light agreement, still gripping his mop as he briefly faced the vacant seats to his left side. "It's been difficult finding a person that won't look down on me."

Willem chose not to voice his shame on doing just that when he first met the friendly but awkward janitor.

"Anyway," Gehrman re-began in his light smile as he turned to look back at the curious-faced Willem. "Sir Provost Wells asked me to tell you he'd like to see you at your earliest convenience," the custodian claimed in his light smile. The listening lecturer lay his eyebrow skyward in curiosity.

"Did he say what for?"

"Would he tell _me_ anything?" Gehrman countered back, this time in a similarly eyebrow-raising smirk. Willem couldn't help but chuckle lowly as he listened. "Just whenever next you're free."

"Very well; I was only finishing up here anyway," Willem sighed out, this time in a light frown as he grabbed his papers, books and quill before placing them away in his briefcase. "Thank you Gehrman."

The custodian nodded in a light smile before pulling out his mop, presumably to clean the now vacant classroom with. "Anytime Master Willem."

* * *

Willem couldn't help but put on a stony frown as he sat in one of the headmasters' waiting room chairs; the seat felt uncomfortable and wobbly, which did little to ease his growing concerns.

Maybe I'm just missing my chair, he thought.

"_Doubt it."_

His silent but sure thoughts made his mind wander back to his very reasoning for being here.

No outward purpose; just sent here.

As if a student to be sentenced to expulsion.

Calm down, he thought; perhaps it's not as bad as all that.

"_And yet it's _all_ can think about."_

"Sir Provost Wells will see you now."

The older woman's voice yanked him straight out of his daydreaming; he snapped his surprised-eyed frown up to the receptionist on the side of the office before nodding in confirmation.

"Th-Thank you."

With that, he grabbed his briefcase hanging at the chair he sat in before standing up and marching forward. On the fancy looking door before him marked were the words:

_MASTER PROVOST WELLS_

_Headmaster_

With respect, always, he knocked first at the oak door before him.

"Enter!"

He nodded, etiquette and formal behaviour drilled into him before pushing the door very carefully. The high quality of the door did not surprise him; not a single creak emanated from its hinges and he could only frown as he stepped through quietly.

The place was as he remembered it when first being hired.

The short-blonde haired man sat in his chair, seemingly previously engrossed in some kind of paperwork before soon turning his head up in response.

"Ah, Browning!" The headmaster smiled in greeting before pushing his lavish chair backward; he stood up to walk around his large desk before reaching his hands to grasp at the frowning Willem's. "Excellent, excellent; glad you came!"

"Sir Provost Wells." Willem greeted, his right hand shaking the headmaster's as he bowed in his display of respect.

"Please, take a seat!"

The frowning junior traced the well-mannered headmaster's hands, gesturing toward the lavish recliner opposite the desk.

"Thank you." Willem acknowledged in a forward nod, pressing ahead to lay down in the chair. Though it was certainly a high quality one it was _not_ his favourite.

Thus, it was uncomfortable for the man.

But he resolved not show this, especially to his employer.

"So! I hear your work in Byrgenwerth Royal has been trying Mr. Browning!"

The man's sudden call made Willem's eyebrows rise in tandem with his widening eyes.

"I-I'm sorry sir?"

"Yes," Provost Wells laughed out well-naturedly, taking the younger man off balance. "I hear you had to send a _student_ out of your lesson today!"

"Ah-ah y-yes...," Willem winced back out, lowering his eyes temporarily, as if to look for a very reason with which to give him. "I apologise sir; my hand was-"

"It's fine; you don't have to explain yourself to _me,_" the headmaster interrupted softly, a similarly comfy raise of his left palm making him halt his words mid-speech. "Your _results_ speak for yourself."

This time, Willem allowed himself to smile, even if wanly in response.

"In _fact_ I am hearing that you are teaching additional subjects to your 'Philosophy and History' lessons."

"U-Um yes _again_ I must apologise-"

"They have been proven, Mr. Browning."

Willem's eyes widened with his similarly shooting eyebrows, pure shock written across his expression.

"W-Wha-?"

"Quite something isn't it?" Provost Wells smiled back out, his hands joined on his desk before him; he uncoupled them to reach down into his desk drawers, pulling what seemed to be pictures of all things. When he placed the three pictographs down opposite the wide-eyed Willem, he finally got a look at what the Provost showed him.

Pictures depicting what seemed to be the _outline_ of an existing monster or creature of some kind.

"But that's...?" Willem gasped out, eyes widening for what felt like the umpteenth time.

"It's _amazing_ Willem!" Wells laughed on out, clenching his fingers together as if in excitement. Perhaps realising his lack of formality however, he chuckled and raised his two palms up in apology. "Mr. Browning, even."

"It's... fine, sir, I don't mind," Willem put on a real smile for once as he briefly re-faced his employer before allowing his eyes to scan the incredible pictures below. "I'm as shocked as _you_ are."

"At any rate, it shows you were correct all these years! Even _if_ they were mere theories!" Wells grinned back out as he joined his hands together a second time. "Do you know what this _means?_"

"Multiple things, sir," the frowning Willem managed out lowly as his eyes darted across each spider-like monster taken by a pictograph before soon re-raising his eyes to face the man before him. "But the most _obvious_ one would be-"

"Offering you a permanent, full-time position here... at Byrgenwerth Royal."

Willem couldn't help but be taken aback in silence; he sat back in the lavish chair, eyes widened yet another time. The smiling headmaster, seemingly completely confident in his words, could not be challenged.

"W-B-But _sir-_"

"I will _not_ take no for an answer Mr. Browning," the friendly headmaster chuckled back as he shook his head in response, still smiling. "Your work has proved exceptional, even among the older staff, and with this new breakthrough... I've been meaning to ask."

"Yes?"

"How much _else_ do you know about your... 'Great Ones' and Pthumerians in your history?"

His question, this time, did not surprise him.

"A _lot_ more than I am currently teaching sir, you may be pleased to know." Willem claimed, this time with a light smile on his face.

"What were you to say if...," Wells began as he lowered his eyes and leant his head briefly to the side; Willem raised a curious eyebrow. "If we _allowed_ you to add to this?"

"Are you _serious_ sir?"

"Hear me out," the Provost smiled as he briefly shot up his two fingers, as if to re-begin speaking on the matter. "If we added to your subjects as a higher tier for the more... gifted students... would you be able to fulfil it?"

Willem was gobsmacked; seemingly unable to respond. Wells couldn't help but rise an eyebrow in curiosity.

"By which I mean... do you have enough material and proven research to meet this demand?" He asked again, this time in a hardened frown.

"U-Um, y-yes! For a full semester? Most definitely!"

"I was _hoping_ to hear you say a quarter... but..."

Again, Willem could barely believe his ears.

Was this a _dream?_

There's no _way, _he thought.

"A full _quarter?_" The man whispered back out, his eyes narrowing in disbelief.

"Ah, I apologise Mr. Browning; perhaps I am asking far too much of you," Wells chuckled good-naturedly. "It _is_ after all a new field and-"

"Yes."

Willem's sudden answer made Wells' eyes widen this time; he re-turned his eyes back to face the younger man, raising an eyebrow. The hard-frowning Willem stared back at him, as if in a very game of chicken; his confidence soaring.

"You are _certain?_" Provost Wells questioned, leaning his head forward this time as if for clarification. "Absolutely?"

"Absolutely."

Willem's convincing repeat of the man's words made the listening Wells' hardened frown very slowly curl into a light grin.

"Mr. Willem Browning...," the headmaster smiled lightly before pushing his chair backward to stand upright. Lightly surprised, Willem followed his actions in some small awkward sense. Headmaster Wells stepped on over to outstretch his left open palm, smiling as before. "Congratulations... on your permanent position and promotion... Professor Browning."

Willem could barely stop the wide smile shooting across his expression; he bowed forward in respect and gratefulness. "Thank you... sir!"


	3. Episode I - Act III

**Episode I: Knowledge**

**Act III: Contact**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Bloodborne, this is just a Fanfiction.**

**Featured Music: "Embassy Function" - Mission Impossible OST. **Scene **1 **(First & Second Halves).

* * *

_**Scene 1**_

Willem couldn't help but put on a comfortable frown as he lay in his favourite rocking chair, swaying his larger form from front to back endlessly. Though it was quiet as a mouse in his main office, he could distinctly hear the sounds of movement throughout the facility.

Things have certainly taken a turn _here, _he thought.

A small smile blessed his older complexion as his mind ruminated his past, still shocked at how he ended up here.

In headmaster Provost Wells' position.

Life is better than I thought it'd end up, he pondered on.

"_I should go on my rounds."_

With his ever running mind, the now headmaster Provost Browning stepped up from his sentimental seat before pressing forward in a leisurely march. He wore fanciful white robes, decorated with a blue pullover on both sides of his front, as if to make his higher rank clearer to any layman passing by. As he stepped on through past his office into reception, he gave the smiling young woman on desk a frowning nod as he passed her by, marching on through to Byrgenwerth Royal's many lavish halls. Most everybody he passed he greeted in his usual nodding greeting; the students and even some of the staff members bowed toward him in a display of high respect.

Who would have known I'd be in _this_ position, the old man thought to himself in a low smile.

"_It's just a shame I have so few friends, even now."_

Count your blessings he thought, his positive side chiming back in, much stronger than it used to be.

I have at least _one_ friend, he mulled over, a small smile returning to grace his complexion.

Things aren't all _that_ bad.

"Sensei Willem!"

The sudden call made the older man stop his march, putting on a light frown as he about-turned to face the source of the voice. A younger man, one of his staff members dressed in Byrgenwerth Royal suit attire, approached him with a gasp as if out of stamina.

"Ah... Micolash; what seems to be the-?"

"We've finally made contact Sensei!"

Willem couldn't help his eyes widening; his senses tensed up in response.

"... What...?"

"It's true!" The shaggy haired student laughed out as he faced his mentor, still breathing heavily in an attempt to catch his breath. "A remote fishing hamlet not too far from here master!"

"What is the situation?"

"There are multiple reports that it is _not_ of human origin; Sensei Willem, I believe they are _true!_" The maddened-faced Micolash could barely manage out, his eyes widening as he spoke.

"How can you be certain?" Willem pressed his former student, narrowing his eyes in emphasis to his question.

"The people involved – the villagers – all who have interacted with the beast have contracted an illness; no-one's seen anything quite like it master!"

I don't believe it, Willem thought to himself.

This is _real._

It's finally happening!

Steady your nerves old boy, he pondered hesitantly.

Do _not_ make any mistakes in doing this.

"I want as much manpower out there as I can spare," Willem immediately shot back, his eyes narrowing in a hardened frown. "Actually... where is Laurence?"

Micolash's excitement almost completely drained from his face, as if being insulted by the question.

Willem only raised a curious eyebrow up at the young man, honestly curious and his hurt expression whizzing by the insensitive older man.

"U-Um... he should be teaching a combat class with Gehrman-"

"Excellent!" Willem suddenly interrupted with a sharp smack to the gasping Micolash's back; a sign of gratitude. "Two birds with one stone; marvellous, thank you!"

Though grateful for his former student's information, he opted not to stay a second longer than he had to.

This was just far too important.

Now, only _now_ was there finally a shot at this.

"_And I need my _best_ mind on it."_ The wizened old professor frowned in thought as he sped on forward as fast as his larger frame would carry him.

* * *

When he finally began to approach an open lecture, his old classroom from his days as a teacher, he slowed his pace down to a mere gradual march.

"Well done class! The winner of _this_ duel is miss Maria!" Laurence's infectiously warm call made the frowning Willem raise up his head to find the tall young man standing over a large number of students. They all stood in a wide circle overlooking what seemed to be a duelling ring. The folded armed Gehrman watched over the lesson from a corner in the room, leaning against the wall in his own shadowy frown.

Unlike his previous jumpsuit however he wore a blackened garb with a tattered cape, seemingly more suited toward combat to fit the class. He also wore an old hat; seemingly a keepsake of his.

At least some things never change, Willem thought.

"Now, make the Hunter's Salutation, as always." Laurence's smiling voice called out a second time as he turned his black haired head down to the circle; the students all watched apprehensively as Willem quietly approached to similarly spectate.

A young woman stood opposite a young man, glaring hatefully at him; though she was striking, he on the other hand seemed very average indeed. She wore the standard Byrgenwerth Royal uniform and her long silvery flowing hair was tied neatly into a ponytail beneath the triangular hat she wore atop it. The young boy instead looked like any other average student; his uniform however was scruffily worn. He wore his long brown hair in a curtain-like fashion similar to his mentor Laurence; the scowl on his face directed veritable daggers back at the glaring young Maria.

Willem recognised them both instantly.

Maria, the winner of this duel; an exceptional gifted young student and Gehrman's new prodigy.

The boy however, was a youth with outstanding battle records and disappointing academics.

Stewart Forbes.

As if sensing his stare; the young Stewart double-took as he finished his Hunter's Salutation bow, catching the similarly glaring Willem's suspicious gaze.

Something's wrong with that boy, he thought.

How did you get _in_ this prestigious school?

"Ah, Sensei Willem!" Laurence greeted in an eyebrow-rising smile. "How nice of you to join us; class, if you haven't already please give a warm welcome to Master Provost Willem!"

In respect to their lauded lecturer, the majority of the students all followed suite with a smiling bout of loud applause.

"Master Willem's leadership of Byrgenwerth Royal College has seen the institute go through numerous drastic changes as a result of his exceptional research!" The smiling Laurence began to introduce his mentor with a grand gesture of his two hands; the gasping Willem, realising his former student's intentions, shook his head vehemently along with his lightly shaking left palm. Undeterred however, Laurence continued. "His research... in Insight and Great Ones!"

As if in response, the class' students oohed and aahed before erupting into another light but fixed cheer of applause.

"He is said to be Byrgenwerth Royal's _greatest_ treasure in knowledge and a pioneer in the very field that he helped to create!"

Ever one for showmanship and dazzle, Laurence's infectiously warm tone managed to erupt the class into a bright and louder applause for the older man. Willem smiled very uncomfortably; clearly unprepared for the shower of praise he was now receiving.

It went down bitter when, as always, he realised...

If it wasn't for Laurence's efforts, he would not have been recognised.

Do not focus on such things, he thought.

The fishing hamlet, he prodded himself on and on.

"_Tell him!"_

"Laurence, could I have a word please...?"

His sudden but quiet call made the young man rise his eyebrows in light wonder before re-turning to face his class with his usual sociable smile.

"I won't be long; remain at the ready," he spoke over warmly; the class all watched him with a light nod before the college lecturer turned to walk a safe distance away from them, joining his old mentor. "What could be so important Sensei Willem?"

As if in response, the hard-frowning Willem shot up his free hand to beckon over the leaning and frowning Gehrman from the shadowy corner of the class. The older man raised up his eyebrows in similar curiosity before leaning off the wall and stepping over lightly. As he passed the class of young students, he could not help exchange a very brief frown with the watching Maria before he finally began to approach the group of men both young and old.

"Yes, Master Willem?"

"I thought this should include _you;_ this is some big news gentlemen." Willem began out, this time with a small grin adorned on his expression, rare as ever. Laurence's smile couldn't help but grace his own handsome complexion, infecting both himself and the listening Gehrman.

It would seem that Laurence had that effect on people.

"Micolash has _just_ told me; we have finally made contact."

Needing no further prodding, Laurence's eyes widened in a newly gained shocked frown. The listening Gehrman could only raise an eyebrow however, unsure.

"Made contact...?"

"With a _Great One,_ Gehrman," Willem shot back, his confident smirk still attached to his expression. "I can still hardly believe it myself."

"What is the situation?" Laurence questioned, furrowing his brow as he leaned forward, his voice hushed and whispering.

"I am still catching things up myself but I imagine it had something to do with the fishing hamlet itself; perhaps it washed up while they were doing their duties. Regardless I am to send as much personnel down there as I can spare."

"That's _incredible_ Sensei Willem!" The class lecturer gasped out, his eyes widening in response. However, he soon realised his mentor's intentions and re-narrowed his eyes forward. "So then-?"

"Is it a combat mission?"

"No, I don't expect any real resistance but still I'd rather you all be prepared down there," Willem replied, turning his frown on the similar-faced Gehrman. "How are your students?" He questioned the lecturer in charge very briefly before re-facing the older man on his left. "Your young prodigy could possibly join in for the field experience."

Laurence couldn't help but exchange a strange expression with the listening Gehrman, as if shocked by his very words.

What's the problem, Willem thought.

There is no _danger,_ surely.

"Um... yes, yes I suppose I could arrange that, Master Willem, so long as..."

"So long as...?" Willem repeated curiously, arching a questioning eyebrow upward.

"A-Ah, yes... it is, after all, Sensei Willem's decision," Laurence smiled on out this time as he exchanged his confirming nod with the combat expert on his right before soon facing the narrow-eyed Provost. "Every man and woman here is yours to command whenever you so please Sensei Willem."

"_But are they really?"_

He didn't voice his silent thoughts, bubbling under the surface.

Focus on the _mission,_ he thought.

The mission.

"Good..." Willem nodded, his eyes very briefly wandering before they double-took similarly to another pair of eyes; a young man's. The youth previously engaged in the duel with Gehrman's favourite.

Forbes.

"Do not include _him._" The headmaster requested, his eyes narrowing back at the frowning student staring back at him. Laurence raised a curious eyebrow before tracing his suspicious stare, unsure.

"Master Forbes?" He whispered back in response, very briefly eyeing the frowning youth. Willem nodded as he re-faced him. "But... why?"

"Just a feeling...," the Headmaster claimed, his brow furrowing as he re-turned his eyes over to face his beloved student and son-figure. "How soon can you leave?"

Laurence's initial business-like frown turned to a warm, honest smile. "It may be an hour or two, at most, but with our organisation I'm sure we can get out there soon."

"Good...," Willem murmured back out as he nodded, turning to leave. He swivelled his head around to re-face the young teacher behind him, a light grin on lighting his face. "If all goes well, Laurence... then we may have no more need for that 'Old Blood'... hm?"

As if nervous in some sense, the listening Laurence lightly winced in response with a forced laugh before bowing forward respectfully as his mentor left.


	4. Episode I - Act IV

**Episode I: Knowledge**

**Act IV: Divide**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Bloodborne, this is just a Fanfiction.**

–

_**Scene 1**_

"Yes... yes he is still in his office."

Provost Willem listened to the muffled voice of Runesmith Caryll speak to someone, presumably asking about him.

I have a good idea who that is, he thought.

Things had built up a considerable amount of pressure not just on _him_ but on the glorious institute he headed and the growing circle that threatened to end his beloved investigation.

"_Everything has built to _this_ apex,"_ he thought to himself as he thumbed his way through yet another book before sighing dramatically as he dropped it to the ground with the countless others he had sifted through. _"There is nothing I can do to do stop this..."_

The oak door to his chambers knocked quite heavily; shockingly enough that Willem snapped his head 'round to the door, eyes widened. The door creaked open ominously into the darkened chamber and a woman's head poked through.

"Master Provost... Sir Laurence is here to see you."

Willem's eyes re-set on their narrowed course, a hardened frown re-adorning his older expression.

"W-What should I do?" Caryll asked with a light wince, as if unsure. "Things are getting frantic out there-"

"Send him in." Willem suddenly interrupted but with a soft and final tone of voice, his eyes telling a strange kind of sadness. The woman nodded before re-shutting the door behind her as she left it.

Willem turned very briefly before finally dropping himself back into his favourite rocking chair, overlooking the large bookcase and the tomes all strewn messily around his office.

He waited, listening to Caryll's muffled voice mix with, presumably Laurence's. He steeled his nerves as he waited and listened to his oak door knock a second time, this time expecting it.

The knocker didn't wait for him to speak before entering.

"Master Willem..."

Laurence's voice echoed on throughout the chamber as he stepped through, his footsteps echoing with his words. Willem tried not to let his face twitch in response but couldn't help it, even _if_ it was out of frame from Laurence's gaze.

"I've... come to bid you farewell." Laurence's soft but awkward tone of voice spoke. Willem's senses tensed, almost as if fearing and expecting these words.

A strange mix of great anger and sadness washed over him as he opened his mouth to respond.

"Oh, I know, I know... you think _now_ to _betray_ me." He emphasised each word with a hardened sharp of his tongue, lightly bobbing his beloved ceremonial rod upon his lap. A sad kind of silence descended down upon the once tight-knit pair of scholars, as if to cry out for their now dying friendship.

"No... but you will _never_ listen," Laurence replied just as softly but with his own sense of strong emphasis. "I tell you... Sensei Willem... I will _not_ forget our adage."

"Hmph...," Willem murmured out through the back of his throat before rocking backward as he re-opened his mouth, as if to voice the very precept of which the former lecturer spoke. "... We are born of the blood, made _men_ of the blood, undone by the blood. Our _eyes_ are yet to open..."

His words, though spoken quietly, echoed deeply within the chamber. Finally, he continued and Laurence spoke with him, as if knowing his next words.

"Fear... the Old Blood."

A strange kind of comfortable silence descended down upon the most intelligent men of Yharnam before, finally, Laurence's voice cut through the comfortable lull with his charismatic baritone.

"I... must take my leave."

The quiet sound of his footsteps dissolved away into the darkness along with the echoing sound of his chamber's oak door. It reverberated quietly and yet, for the listening Willem, its sound was harsh as if the ending to a much loved tome.

Willem's eyes very quietly shut and his lower lip trembled as he re-opened his mouth, giving speech to his thoughts. "By the _gods...,_" he murmured on out. "_Fear_ it... Laurence..."

* * *

_BANG_

The listening Willem widened his eyes beneath the eye-guard he now wore, the sound of a gunshot echoing past his locked Lunarium door.

Combat, just inside my abandoned abode, he thought.

"_I can do nothing to help."_

The way I am now, with these eyes...

I can barely take care of _myself._

The harsh sound of flesh being ripped through made the listening Willem wince beneath his eye-guard; his heart wrenched at the possibility of the last member of the Choir, besides himself, being brutally killed.

I'm so sorry Yurie, he thought.

This is all my fault.

The horrifying sound of quietened steps echoed past his locked door, growing louder with each step. He shut every eye that grew within his body as he sat in his favourite rocking chair, overlooking the calm silvery moon in his beloved lookout.

_CLICK_

The door behind him finally gave way to the sound of a key being inserted into its lock; all of Willem's senses tensed.

The end for the Byrgenwerth Scholars was finally at hand, he thought.

The door creaked on open and a few steps made him aware of the person's eerie presence.

Somehow, even in spite of all the years between them, Willem knew exactly who it was that intruded in his mansion and killed his only remaining companion.

"Sensei Willem...," the owner's voice finally spoke in a greeting, his low-toned Yharnam-refined accent echoing forward as he approached the shut-eyed Provost. "Long time no see."


	5. Episode II - Act I

**Episode II: The First Hunter**

**Act I: Combat**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Bloodborne, this is just a Fanfiction.**

**Featured Music: "Hunter's Dream" - Bloodborne OST. **Episode Briefing.

**"Château" - The Matrix Reloaded OST. **Scene **1 **(First Half).

* * *

__In the far-off land of Yharnam there once existed a special kind of ministration led and spearheaded by one of its greatest minds to ever live.__

__'Blood Ministration'.__

__It is within this legendary land and the wondrous people that inhabit it that we turn our attention to the great people living within. These people, connected by both achievement of the academics and of the very battlefield itself, form and weave an incredible overarching story that becomes something greater; something wiser.__

__A Great One.__

_Today, we go back to the days of yore; when hunters were a new kind of expression for the largely docile people of Yharnam. Back when academics were regarded as the highest achievement one could reach for._

_This episode of 'Tales of the Old Blood' feature a prominent figure from both Yharnam's early years and even into its much later, post-apocalyptic days; a man who knows captivity that will fight to keep the freedom of those without it. They called him 'the First Hunter'._

_They called him... Gehrman._

* * *

_**Scene 1**_

Gehrman met his opponent's quarterstaff with his own in an athletic spin, narrowing his sky-blue eyes back. The two's weapons knocked against one another loudly before the second boy pressed forward with a quick series of upwardly angled kicks, meant for the chin. The first boy easily deflected them with his free left hand before grabbing his last kick via his leg; the second youth's eyes widened and, in a gasp, he watched his speedy adversary spin around his open defences.

The first student shot his free left hand, clenched into a fist, directly into the second student's open chest. He gasped and was sent briefly through the air before landing in a pained cough; he very quickly twirled his legs around in a recovery before leaping back up in a swift back-flip. His eyes narrowed at the similarly hard-eyed student before pressing forward; he jumped forward in a sweeping, leaping roundhouse; the first boy ducked it safely, eyes narrowed before soon replying with a quick diagonally angled kick.

The second student caught it with his similarly swift hands before grasping the wide-eyed Gehrman's arms and tossing him across the air. He skid roughly but, otherwise, unharmed across the soft floor of the fighting arena before snapping his young head back and upward to find his attacker pressing his luck with a pursuing leap.

_SLAM_

Though Gehrman's quarterstaff was clattered from his grip he opted not to panic and swiftly rolled out of his opponent's _own_ weapon. It smashed apart the ground roughly as it stabbed through easily. Utilising his speed, the first student shot upward in a recovering back-flip, turning it into a defensive strike. His bare feet struck the gasping second student up and the strength of which even _broke_ his staff, sending him staggering a few steps backward. Gehrman pressed his offence by weaving in and out as he advanced, eyes set on his adversary.

With very little technique, the young Gehrman swung his right arm across at the wide-eyed youth before him; he ducked but barely in time, visibly shocked at the strength he possessed. Gehrman pressed his momentum by using his free left arm to similarly sweep across the air; this time however, his rival caught the obvious strike with a narrow-eyed rise of his own right palm, watching Gehrman with a hard-eyed glare. The second student turned the tables by pushing the gasping Gehrman back a few steps before finally slamming his two conjoined opened palms into his similarly clear chest.

"Guh...!"

Gehrman's grunt travelled with him as he was sent spinning through the air, thudding against the ground as he landed. Light applause from the watching stands made the grunting Gehrman very briefly turn his eye to the spectating audience, eyes narrowed before pulling himself back up, his eye on his competitor. Opting to adapt to the second student's change in tactics, Gehrman narrowed his eyes as he ran his free right thumb across his nose. The youth hopped about in place, cricking and cracking his neck as he did before separating his right and left arms, diagonally crossed in a defensive position.

His watching opponent very carefully paced around the fighting arena, eyes surveying his adversary's form as if for weaknesses before repeatedly crossing his legs skillfully and landing on a form of his own. As if in response to Gehrman's, the second student shot his own arms across his defence in a similar fashion; crossed and all. Gehrman's eyes narrowed as he, very slowly, approached his opponent, the second youth following suit.

It was an open challenge from one rival to another.

As the pair finally made their last steps toward one another, they repeatedly shot their fists across the air in lightning-quick feints. Neither reacted however, opting to watch very carefully and quietly; the audience, by this point, had also lowered their normal murmuring to pure silence, absorbed completely in the duel.

Finally however, the second student reacted; with incredible reactions he managed to grab one of the wide-eyed Gehrman's many feints with his two arms and made ready to grapple him. The narrow-eyed youth didn't let him however; with untold agility he managed to forward-flip in place, alerting his shocked opponent before turning the tables with a grapple of his own. Gehrman used his strength the right way and yelled with effort as he tossed his enemy sideways through the air; the wide-eyed second student grunted but once before skidding painfully across the soft ground. Before long however he used it to vault up off in a deft side-flip; Gehrman pursued with lightning speed and grunted a second time as he went for a quick but telegraphed sweep.

With rivalling agility, the second student forward-flipped through the air acrobatically to avoid the attack and go leaping over the rising eyebrow face of Gehrman; the black haired youth traced his movement with his own eyes before very slowly walking on after his hurried sprint. The second student used the wall ahead of him and ran on _up_ it; this time the audience let out a shocked gasp as they watched the speedy youth back-flip off the high wall and passed over Gehrman's form a second time.

Time slowed down for the watching Gehrman and, as he watched his opponent arch over him, he gathered his remaining physical strength and clenched his fists at his sides. Finally, the youth landed but before he could even _do_ anything Gehrman's super-fast offence was presented; he advanced forward with a powerfully-infused back-kick, his left fist clenched at his side and his right held ahead as if to help propel him forward.

_SMASH_

The second student could only gasp in horrified widened eyes as he was sent colliding into the wall behind him. With the incredible force he was sent through, his body left an impression in the wooden wall before he finally dropped forward, coughing in defeat. Silence descended upon the watching audience; their eyes traced over to the original source of the force to find the narrow-eyed Gehrman very slowly pulling his extended leg back swinging through the air slowly. Finally, he rested it at his side with his clenched left fist, narrowing his eyes through the sweat that built up on his forehead.

* * *

"Well done Gehrman! You are today's winner!"

The named youth stepped forward, eyes now limpid and light; he reached down to offer a hand toward his fallen former opponent, still frowning as always. Though fallen on his face and bruised from his encounter, the second student frowned on back at him with a respectful nod. As if in response, the watching audience erupted into a bout of cheers and applause; perhaps the best engagement they had seen yet.

"It is such a _shame_ that these are extra-curricular classes with no credit to be gained," the official spoke over, seemingly the leader and overseer of the class as he strode on over to them. "You _both_ would be top of these classes otherwise." The man chuckled good-naturedly. He wore a simple suit just as the rest of the Byrgenwerth staff adorned.

The young Gehrman and his yet-to-be-named associate merely exchanged a similarly frowning expression, as if unsure on what else to say in response.

"Well? Go on!" The lecturer chuckled as he patted the two boys across their rough and sweaty backs. "Djura, Gehrman! Shake each other's hands."

The two boys, in response, turned to face one another in a frown before reaching for each other's hand. Their hardened, unemotional frown told no stories on their feelings except for _one _small gesture between them.

They nodded toward one another in silent respect.

A sign between rivals and hopeful friends.

"How about it ladies and gentlemen? A hand for the lads?" The lecturer smiled in the direction of the audience stands. In reply, the watching men, women and children let loose with another barrage of applause and cheers. "If combat is _ever_ to be a credit gaining class within Byrgenwerth...," the teacher smiled again as he bent down to the boys' level, still smiling as he laid a hand on each of their shoulders. "Then you boys have a _bright_ future ahead of you."


End file.
